


Vent Drabbles

by Botanophillic_Zombie



Category: Original Work
Genre: Emotional Hurt, Gen, Heavy Angst, Hurt No Comfort, Shameless Projection, just a collection of things i wrote when i couldn’t think, vent fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-06
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-12 16:22:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29887278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Botanophillic_Zombie/pseuds/Botanophillic_Zombie
Summary: A collection of short fics and one-shots I write to figure out how I feel about things. There is often no context and some may feel like meaningless explanation. These are not written to appease a crowd. They are not Good Stories.
Kudos: 2





	1. Lily White And Poppy Red

**Author's Note:**

> Tw:  
> -implied rape/noncon  
> -prescription medication shown in a negative light  
> -implied familial abuse  
> -police presence  
> -mentioned child custody problems

María grinned, she  _ grinned.  _ And it was  _ sickening. _

“How?  _ How  _ are you doing that? After everything that just happened?” 

She raised her eyebrows at Koppány, and tapped her fingers to her temple. 

“I don’t feel anything. It’s funny!”

Koppány thought of the bottle of white pills.

“You don’t feel anything…  _ Anymore _ .”

María shrugged, and turned to go inside. Koppány stayed standing in the yard with the flashing cop cars, and imagined his curling fingers tightening into a fist around Antonio Montes’s throat. 

...That man…  _ God  _ that man deserved to be locked up- he needed to die just to get him  _ away  _ from everyone. 

“Hey.” Said Eliseo. Koppány looked at him in surprise- out of all the siblings to talk to him, he didn’t think  _ Eliseo _ would be the one.

He opened his mouth, closed it, and made a pained sigh. Eliseo knew how María felt to an extent. As her closest cousin- like a brother, and twin oldest sibling. Antonio was his uncle, but he stayed with the man through his youth. He’d run away as a younger teenager- he’d visited his blood aunt’s house many times, it was easy for him to find his way there and stay. The trial was long and annoying, and Eliseo blamed himself for Antonio taking María the next spring.

He hated this just as much and just as deeply, as Koppány did, but it opened old scars that led to the depths of him.

Eliseo eventually settled for resting a hand on Koppány’s shoulder, “...You aren’t alone.”

María cackled loudly from inside, and Koppány’s instincts tried to freeze him over. He thought of leaving- he had traveled alone for so long, he had been through horrible things and back then was a horrible creature built to survive it. He had grown soft here.

Koppány nodded, and took a deep breath. He hesitantly patted Eliseos hand- the last thing he wanted was to compromise the fragile state between them, “I… I’m going to… I’ll run to the store. We’re gonna be staying in this house for awhile, aren’t we? I’ll um. Groceries.”

Eliseo stared back at him quietly, and slowly moved his hand from Koppány’s shoulder, and dropped his hand to where it now rested near his thigh. 

Koppány’s heart did a painful squeeze as Eliseo purposely brushed their knuckles together.

He nodded, “...Good luck.”

Koppány took a deep breath, rolled his shoulders, and set off on a jog. 


	2. On The Outs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tw:  
> -Negative Family History   
> -absent parenting  
> -neglectful parenting  
> -slight queerphobia; could be interpreted as homophobia

Liam’s family was a tricky one. The Andersons were a scrip-scrapped mess. The eldest sibling, Arrluk, was their guardian. She still answered to their mother and so did all of them, but she took care of the heavy lifting.

Liam was the second eldest, and loved it when it was just Arrluk and him. He adored her more than he let himself adore anything, and a lot of his life was him trying to make things easier. To pull as much of his weight as he could, and maybe a bit of hers as well. 

Then there was Peo, doing her best and faring her worst. She was angry from the moment she was born. Arrluk often shyed her towards the hatchet or towards the hay. And Peo saw an opportunity to show her strength and vent her frustration, so she took it. Their mother had always wanted a  _ baby  _ girl, so she had a special eye for Peo. She was so attentive. She could have done so well. But no amount of memorized friends' names or favorite dishes could convince Peo to be a baby doll. 

Then came Alejandro. Never again-ly known as Anjelica. Alejandro was the youngest, and the slowest, and the most adventurous. She was adopted, a child of a friend's relative who couldn’t take care of her. They never came to visit. Peo hated her. She always spared enough attention and begrudging affection when Alejandro was seriously hurt or on the outs, but for the most part Peo avoided her. She’d never wanted a little sibling.  _ Liam  _ on the other hand  _ adored  _ Alejito. He was so happy to have someone to take care of and show the ropes. Alejandro was his sidekick. Little apprentice. And Alejito loved it.

You see… They were all different. Very much so. Their mother was a  _ beautiful  _ woman. She was so gorgeous that seeing her in a marriage like this was  _ painful.  _ She was short and round like Peo, and the two would look very alike if she would stop smiling. Their mother was a positive thinker, to a fault, but not  _ that  _ one. Not the one where you refuse to acknowledge the bad and the worms in your basement eat through your foundation. No, their mother did her best to acknowledge and work on every negative thing that came her way. She always thought she would win. She always thought that one day, their father would come back and help support them again and she could relive Arrluk of doing  _ her  _ job. One day she could apologize to her daughter. One day she could  _ call  _ Arrluk her daughter without the truth of what she was ringing out in the silence. 

A babysitter. A nanny.

Their father had never deserved such a woman as his goddess gave to him, and he knew it from the start. He could never forgive himself enough to feel like he could amount to  _ anything  _ when he was in her presence, and it broke him one night. He was gone. He had  _ been  _ gone for 19 years. Just one year past Peo’s birth date. 

He left a few things. Pictures on the wall, money for his eldest daughter, his hockey team’s hat for his son. A whistle for his baby daughter, in case she ever  _ really  _ got lost. A letter for his wife.

He was a horrible man, and he was  _ horrible  _ for what he did. But he loved them. 

And then he was gone.

Once Liam got a job, Peo was old enough to fend for herself, and Alejandro could get from school to home and back perfectly on her own. Arrluk, having had a job of her own for a few years, had been adding to the pot for a while to help their mother. Liam’s job helped build up money three times as fast, and the pressure fell slack between them. Their mother was around more, and Arrluk was scarce. Liam understood. She needed to gasp for air. After all these years she wanted to  _ breathe.  _

She went to look for their father, and world down the grapevine says she found him. Nobody is really excited or thrilled to talk about it though. 

Then the gods grew tired of she show and slammed their hands down, and flung the earth like stew in a pot. Liam and Alejandro had ended up south.  _ So far  _ south. Los Angeles, 1940’s. What was Liam going to do  _ here.  _ And what was he going to do with María. And Oliver. And Mat and all the others that came in their wake. 

He still goes home. He still sees his family. He hasn’t talk to his mother in awhile, and he and Peo still need to sit down and Talk About It All. To show their real selves to eachother, to really meet and bond for the first time in centuries. Alejandro hit it off with Mat, and they proceeded to terrorize the block and be the happiest they could ever be. Arrluk was… Hard to contact. Liam didn't really…  _ Know  _ her so much as he knew a fellow survivor. Another escapee who had been her longer, knew the tricks and the knicks in the vents like their own hand. 

He did not know who she was after she was allowed to take her chrysalis off. 

And his mother… She reached out to him. Was polite, kind, seemed to be trying her best. But she never  _ really  _ looked at Oliver. She didn’t understand her son’s lover and she decided that she would ignore it until it went away. When Oliver never went away, she began to withdraw.

And then they were sort of on their own. It was Liam and Alejandro in LA, Arrluk back in Helena. Peo was traveling down the coast, last in San Francisco. She was coming their way. 

And though they were ragged and confused they had hope of working together. They could be something  _ amazing.  _ Nothing mattered of the past.


	3. The Vixen and her Snail Trails

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw:  
> -heavily implied sexual content  
> -implied debatable consent  
> -parental abuse  
> -‘light’ verbal abuse  
> -internalized slut-shaming

It was always like this these nights. 

María walked numbly down the street, fawn-legged and zombielike. 

She pulled her phone out of her pocket once again, just to check and see if she still looked like a ragdoll. 

Her hair was messy and windswept, she couldn’t be bothered to put her glasses on so the hollowness in her eyes was easily seen. The lines on her face seemed deeper, her complexion paler. Bits of her hair and eyebrows and eyelashes stuck together in gooey clumps. She thought she’d gotten it out, but, there was only so much a sleeve wipe would do.

She looked at her sleeve. A dark blue cardigan. Glistening smears and soon-to-be stains looked back at her. They would wash out. Right? They would wash out.

The heel of her shoe got caught on a crack, and she stumbled.

Righting herself required strength from her thighs. She couldn’t feel the long strip of muscle from the inside down to her knees. 

_ You’re wearing a skirt.  _ A voice in her head reminded her. She would  _ not  _ be caught on her knees- she’d done that enough times tonight already,  _ no. _

But she fell anyway. Broken and limp and weak like a puppet without its strings. 

Who was in control of her now? She had long since lost the power to orchestrate herself. 

Her phone buzzed in her pocket. Numbly, she took it out.

_ “Where are you?”  _ Her father answered quick. She flinched at his hard tone, and the way his spaniard accent grated off the spanish he used. 

María missed her mom. She missed her little sister. 

She wanted to hear the way they spoke again. 

“I’m on my way home. I can see the house from here.” She replied. Monotonous. Robotic. In english.

Her father’s glower was transmitted perfectly over the phone, “Watch your tone. Be home in a minute or less.”

_ Click! _

And then he hung up. And the strings of fate wrapped themselves around her neck and tugged her to her feet. 

And María went back to her fathers house.


End file.
